


When He Realises

by mistleto3



Series: Beginnings [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first moments when Mikoto and Tatara realise their feelings for one another go beyond friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Suoh Mikoto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Mikoto realised his feelings for Tatara were special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from mikotoismyking on Tumblr asking: “What was the moment when Mikoto thought “oh fuck” and just knew that Totsuka was special to him?”
> 
> This chapter can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/148934498019/beginnings-part-1)

When Mikoto first met Tatara, he had no idea that he’d met his soulmate. Not that Mikoto believed in soulmates, or “the one,” or any of that nonsense, but even if he did, he would never have guessed this was it. There was no moment of sudden realisation, nothing clicked into place inside him, the world didn’t blossom into colour after years of seeing in monochrome, there were no fireworks like there were in every cheap romance novel (not that Mikoto had read a romance novel in his life). If anything, Mikoto was ambivalent to, if not slightly annoyed by the scrawny boy who’d taken to following him around with the look of a lost puppy about him.  

Tatara had grown on him, though. As much as Mikoto found his constant sunny attitude an annoyance and hated having to keep an eye on him in case the reckless boy got himself hurt, there was something sort of comforting about his presence. Mikoto had grown up in a ward of the state, being bounced between foster families and orphanages so often it made him dizzy, so it was rare for him to feel more than fleetingly cared about. And then, suddenly, there appeared this kid who seemed to think the sun shone out of his ass, who spoke about him reverently, told him he was the type of person who could even become a King someday. It was an odd feeling, having someone around who thought about Mikoto like that, but it was refreshing. Even if Mikoto would never admit it.

And then there came that phone call, as Mikoto and Izumo sat together in the bar after school.

“Ah… How should I tell you this…” Izumo had said, running his hand through his hair.  

“Tell me what?” Mikoto’s tone was apathetic; he wasn’t convinced he would care too much about whatever it was Izumo had to say.

“It’s about that kid who wants to work for you… He got beaten up on the street and taken to hospital.”

Mikoto felt something cold constrict his heart, but kept his face blank. He clicked his tongue, as though it was a great trouble to him, but he rose to his feet almost instantly and headed for the door, wanting to get to the hospital to check up on Tatara as soon as possible. As annoying as he could be, the fear that bubbled behind his ribcage forced Mikoto to finally acknowledge that, yes, he did care about this kid. Not that he said anything about it.

“Hey! What brings you here, King?” Despite being confined to a hospital bed, Tatara was as sunny as ever.

“King?” Izumo raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but Mikoto ignored him.

“Who did this to you?” The sight of such a bright but delicate-looking boy in a hospital bed encased in plaster casts and swaddled in bandages made Mikoto’s stomach turn. What kind of scum would do something like that to such a sweet kid?

“Look, kid, if you hang around this guy, you’ll end up like this again. You might think you’ll be safe near someone strong, but it’s the exact opposite,” Izumo chastised gently.

Mikoto agreed wholeheartedly with him; Tatara hanging around him would only put him in more danger, and for his own sake, he should stay away. But at the same time, there was a little, guilty part of himself that wanted him to stick around. As much as he pretended to be annoyed by Tatara’s silly little nicknames and his eternal optimism, there was something sort of comforting about it. It was nice to have someone around who had so much faith in him; nobody else ever had.

“Okay, I’ll be careful from now on,” Tatara replied with an easy-going smile, and at the sight of that grin on the face of a kid whose skin was tarnished all over with scrapes and stormy-looking bruises, something snapped inside Mikoto. Bile rose in the back of his throat and burned in his stomach. Any person who could look at a face like that and still take their fist to it was a person who deserved to pay in kind.

“Kid, let me say this again…” Izumo began, but he was interrupted my Mikoto slamming his foot against the bed frame.

“I asked who did this to you.”

Tatara looked down, almost seeming ashamed. “Before I tell you, King, I have a huge favour to ask. Will you hear me out?”

Mikoto nodded, grunting his assent.

“My foot… it itches like hell! Could you scratch it for me?”

“Huh?” Izumo raised an eyebrow incredulously at the kid’s nerve, then watched Mikoto in shock as he actually walked over to him and lay a hand on his cast, before he thumped Tatara on the top of the head and strode out of the room.

In hindsight, Mikoto should have realised then and there that there was something about Tatara that was different, that he was special. If anyone else had asked him something like that, he’d never even have entertained the idea, but because it was Tatara, there had been a moment when he’d actually intended to do it. But it took Mikoto years to figure that out; he never had been the most in-tune with his own feelings.

After the Slates chose him, and he shared his powers with Tatara, the way they manifested in him was the polar opposite of Mikoto’s own. Mikoto’s powers were ferocious, wild. They burned him up from the inside, and there were times when he could barely keep them contained, when he feared at any moment the flames would burst out of him and turn everything close by into ash. He did a good job of hiding it, but he was terrified.

And then there was Tatara, who could barely injure anyone with his powers if he tried. Tatara, who turned those flames that Mikoto was so terrified of into butterflies. Tatara, who saw his best friend burning and ran to him without a thought for himself, even when Mikoto had warned:

“Hey, don’t come closer, you’ll get hurt.”

Tatara had merely smiled as he knelt before him, reaching out to tap his palm against Mikoto’s and assuring him: “I won’t get hurt.”

And surely enough, the flames that had swirled around Mikoto quieted as their hands met; Tatara’s touch was like water. A cool sensation trickled across Mikoto’s skin from where his knuckles were pressed to his palm, proliferating outwards through his body, extinguishing the flame.

“Totsuka…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Everything will be fine somehow, King.”

That reckless boy, there was no way he could have known that for certain. But he was brimming with faith in his best friend, and God, how could Mikoto do anything but fall in love with him?

Not that he realised it at the time, of course. Mikoto violently rejected the prospect of caring about others; he had convinced himself he was far too dangerous to let anyone get close. So it was to his great frustration that a gaggle of wayward young men began to form around him, drawn to the power he hated so much. But he couldn’t help but care about them, each and every one, as if they were his brothers. And in the back of his mind, he was aware that the kind of affection he had for Tatara was different, but he ignored those thoughts as much as he could.

It wasn’t until Tatara went away for a week that Mikoto realised how much he’d come to rely on him. Since they met, they’d barely spent any extended amount of time apart; there had never been any need. Neither of them had family to visit, nor enough money to go on vacations, aside from the occasional day at the beach with Homra. It wasn’t until a while after they’d taken in Anna, a considerable amount of time after the death of Tatara’s father, that Tatara finally decided he really ought to sell the house he’d lived in when he was a child, a little way outside of the city. He planned to stay there as he cleared the place out for ease’s sake, so that he wasn’t commuting back and forth all week. Before he left, he’d given Mikoto several lectures about taking care of himself and making sure Anna was looked after (though Izumo had given his assurances that he’d keep his eye on the both of them.)

Mikoto did alright for the first few days by himself. But once Tatara had been gone for a while, his absence became achingly obvious. Every time Mikoto came down into the bar, he was taken aback by the lack of the sleeping lump on the sofa where Tatara took his afternoon nap. It was odd, not entering a room and being greeted with a cheerful shout of: “King!”

And of course, without his stopper, he was beginning to struggle. Every day without Tatara there, his powers burned a little hotter, his self-control slipped a little more, his nightmares got a little worse. But it wasn’t just nightmares he was having. Between them, he dreamed of Tatara. Sometimes just of sitting with him in the bar in the calm of a warm afternoon, having conversations he couldn’t remember when he woke up again. Sometimes of standing on a rooftop on a cool evening with the breeze playing through their hair as they watched the twinkling lights of the city illuminate the night. Sometimes of lying together in Mikoto’s bed, their limbs tangled around one another as they drifted off in one another’s arms. Once, he dreamed of them kissing, their lips brushing together softly, tentatively.

He woke with a jolt from that one, and decided something needed to be done promptly to put a stop to these odd dreams before they got out of hand. That morning, he called Tatara.

“Are you alright?” was the first thing Tatara said when he answered the phone. There was concern in his voice.

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you?”

“You’re not exactly a chatty person, King,” Tatara pointed out.

“Yeah, I s’pose. Just wanted to see how you were.”

Tatara immediately launched into a detailed recounting of what he’d been up to while he’d been staying at his father’s house, describing all the old things he’d found that reminded him of his childhood and the interesting little knick-knacks concealed amongst the rubbish. Mikoto listened patiently to his chatter, finding the sound of his voice soothing. It took Tatara a while to run out of things to say, and Mikoto was happy to let him talk for as long as he wished.

Finally, Tatara asked: “What about you?”

Mikoto grunted. “Not done much. Anna dragged me to the park.”

Tatara chuckled. “I don’t know how you cope without me; I’m surprised you don’t just lie in bed all day.”

“I would, but I got Anna to take care of.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“And you?”

“I’m alright.”

“Good.” Mikoto could almost hear the casual smile in Tatara’s voice. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Good.”

“I should probably get back to work; there’s so much junk in this house! I’ll call ya tomorrow and give you an update.”

“Alright, see ya.”

“Speak to you soon~” Tatara said, and as the line went dead, Mikoto felt the hollow that had formed in his chest at Tatara’s absence making its presence known once more. He let out a long sigh.

The phone call didn’t stop the dreams, either. If anything, they only became more extreme, both the good and the bad. That night, he jolted awake in the early hours of the morning in a cold sweat, trying to blink away the image of Tatara’s charred corpse that had seared itself into his corneas.

It was almost an hour before he could calm himself enough to sleep after that, and even then, he couldn’t do it without padding downstairs to retrieve the blanket that Tatara used when he took his afternoon naps. When he finally drifted off, comforted by the familiar scent that clung to the fabric, the dream he sank into was quite different to the one he’d woken from earlier.

It began the same as the dream of the previous night, with the feather-light touch of their lips, but this time it didn’t stop there. This time, his dream was a haze of shaking hands, discarded clothing, bare flesh. He woke sweating again, but not quite in the same way as earlier.

Despite the fact that he’d woken hours before he usually got up in the morning, Mikoto instantly rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom to take a cold shower. As the water trickled down across his shoulders, he let out a heavy sigh. He’d never really thought about his sexuality before; it wasn’t something that he thought had any importance- it wasn’t like he was in the habit of getting crushes. The people who got too close to him got hurt, so he’d made something of an unspoken pact with himself to try and avoid that happening, which meant romantic attraction was definitely out of the question. And itd definitely came as something of a surprise to him to have these kinds of fantasies about another man. Not that Tatara was the most masculine of men, but still.

It wasn’t that that was bothering Mikoto though; he wasn’t the type of person to fret over labels that ultimately didn’t mean that much at all, at least to him. He also wasn’t the type to fantasise about sex, either. He didn’t look at strangers on the street and wonder what they looked like naked, and he didn’t really lust after people the way he overheard his clansmen talking about it. He didn’t even like watching porn; he thought it was all too impersonal, too artificial. Sexual attraction towards people he didn’t already have an emotional attachment to had never really been a thing for him; he had no desire to get into such a compromising position with someone he didn’t trust.  So his sudden attraction to Tatara made the uncomfortable truth that he had been trying to suppress almost undeniable. The operative word being _almost._

More difficult to deny though, was that the less explicit elements of the dreams had been just as enjoyable, if not more so, than the sexual parts. The warmth of Tatara’s embrace, the way his lips curved upwards into a smile as they pressed against his own, the way his slim fingers had slotted so effortlessly between Mikoto’s…

Every detail of those gentle touches had been etched into his mind, so vividly that they nearly felt real. Even just the memory of it sent an odd sensation flooding through his stomach that almost felt like nervousness. But he dismissed that as ridiculous; he wasn’t some doe-eyed schoolgirl after all. The more the cold water calmed his racing heartbeat, the easier he found it to persuade himself that the dreams didn’t mean anything. So what if he was attracted to men? Just because he acknowledged that Tatara was fairly attractive as men go, and his subconscious had taken that awareness a little too far, didn’t mean he was in love with him.

That’s what he kept telling himself, at least.

It felt like it had been far longer than a week before Tatara finally arrived back at Homra. Mikoto waited downstairs in the bar for him, berating himself internally for allowing the nervous bubbling sensation in his gut to return, the same one that plagued him every time he woke from another of those dreams. When the door finally swung open, Mikoto got hurriedly to his feet, and a wash of relief flooded through him at the sight of that carefree, smiling face.

“King!” was the first thing Tatara said as he opened the door, and he raced across the room to throw his arms around his friend’s. Mikoto clicked his tongue in exasperation at Tatara’s overly-affectionate tendencies, but he reciprocated the hug nonetheless. He felt his heart skip a beat as he felt Tatara’s fingers fist in the fabric of his shirt, and the memories of those dreams forced themselves uncomfortably into the forefront of his mind. As they touched, a cooling sensation rippled outwards through Mikoto’s body, and he didn’t realise how badly he’d been aching in Tatara’s absence until the contact gave him relief. Tatara’s frame was slight in his arms, almost delicate, and Mikoto could swallow him up easily in his embrace. Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged someone, but he couldn’t help but admit it was nice; the clean scent of Tatara’s skin, the warmth of his body, were things Mikoto could quite happily get used to.

Tatara smiled as he finally drew away, the embrace having lasted a heartbeat longer than a friendly hug should have, and Mikoto’s resolve finally broke. The dreams were one thing, something he could deny, write off as his subconscious being overactive in Tatara’s absence. But seeing his beaming face after what felt like such a long time, holding him in his arms… There was nothing he could say to talk his way around the way his heartbeat had tripped when Tatara had thrown his arms around him, nothing he could say to pretend his touch didn’t bring him comfort.

_Shit. I think I’m in love with him._

“I missed you,” Tatara said simply. 

“Mm,” Mikoto agreed, unable to prevent himself from returning Tatara’s smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Chinese translation of this fic courtesy of Mikoto_Tatara is available [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13141905/chapters/30059556).


	2. Part 2: Totsuka Tatara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Tatara realised his feelings for Mikoto were special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was due like a month ago but I had writer's block lmao I'm so sorry
> 
> This chapter can also be found on [Tumblr](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/150421304324/beginnings-part-2).

“Totsuka.”

Tatara’s bleary eyes fluttered open and he searched for the sound. Disoriented, it took him a moment to realise that the dark room he had been sleeping in was Mikoto’s, not his own.

“Hmm, what time is it?” Tatara’s voice was thick with sleepiness. He lay on top of the covers, fully clothed, wincing at the light that flooded in from the corridor.

“1am,” Mikoto replied, leaning against the doorframe.

“Ah, shoot…”

“What’re you doing up here?”

Tatara sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I was really tired when I finished my shift in the bar this afternoon, but I wanted to stick around so I could get some food here later. I didn’t think you’d mind if I had a nap here; you weren’t around, and I thought I’d be in and out without you ever noticing.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Guess I missed dinner though. Sorry, I’ll head home now.”

Mikoto shook his head. “Stay. ‘S too dangerous for you to walk home through this part of town at night.”

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

Mikoto shrugged, dismissing the statement. “Pyjamas are in the top drawer,” he said simply, then headed into the bathroom.

Not sure what else to do, Tatara obeyed and rolled off the bed. Once he was on his feet, he stretched slowly, then shuffled over to the drawer to rummage through it for something that might fit him. He felt his cheeks warm as he did so; it seemed inappropriate to be looking through the underwear drawer of someone as private as Mikoto, and Tatara did his best to keep his eyes averted, while half-aware of how silly he was being. What was there to be embarrassed about? It was just a pile of clothes.

He quickly fished out a t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms and changed into them; the clothes swamped his slim frame, and he had to roll up the trousers at the bottom a few times so he wouldn’t trip over them, but he found the way his friend’s scent clung to the fabric oddly comforting.

Mikoto came out of the bathroom a short while later, wearing just a pair of black pyjama bottoms, and laid down on the couch across the room.

“King, you’ll get a sore back sleeping on the sofa. Not to mention you’ll catch a cold dressed like that without a blanket.” Tatara felt his cheeks heating up again as he spoke, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I’ve slept here dozens of times.”

“Are you sure you’re alright there? I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed.”

“’S fine, just get some sleep.”

Tatara sighed, knowing it wasn’t worth protesting, then nodded and laid back down. “Well, if you’re sure… G’night King.”

“Night.”

 

Over an hour later, long after Mikoto’s breathing had slowed as he fell into a slumber, Tatara found himself still wide awake, staring around the dark room. He’d lost track of the time by the time he finally managed to drop off to sleep, but even then, he didn’t remain that way for long. Tatara was usually quite a heavy sleeper, but that night, the softest of sounds woke him with a start. He jolted upright in bed, staring around the dimly-lit room for the source of the noise.

There was a moment of silence, and then he heard the sound again; from Mikoto’s sleeping body came a low, pained grunt that died abruptly in his throat. Tatara could hear his laboured breathing from across the room, and between breaths, quiet whines escaped his gritted teeth briefly before he could cut them off. He sounded like he was in agony, but even in his sleep, he was doing his best not to let his pain show.

Unable to listen to his friend suffering any longer, Tatara climbed out of the bed and crept over to the sofa. A bar of pale moonlight fell across Mikoto’s body from between the partly-closed curtains, just bright enough for Tatara to make out his features; his face was contorted with pain, his brows furrowed and his jaw tense. Sweat beaded on his bare skin, and his breathing was deep and ragged. Every few seconds or so, another low grunt rumbled in his chest, like the growl of some cornered animal.

“King…” Tatara said softly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder to wake him.

Mikoto’s eyes snapped open at the touch, and he grabbed Tatara’s wrist instinctively in a vice-like grip. Tatara yelped in pain, and the sound drew Mikoto back to himself; he released Tatara’s arm quickly, almost as though it had burned him.

“Sorry…” Mikoto grunted the word, his voice slurred with grogginess, then sat up slowly.

Tatara dropped to a crouch so that he wasn’t standing over Mikoto, seeming unperturbed by the episode.  “Are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?”

Mikoto opened his mouth to deny it, but realised Tatara would see straight through the lie. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Come on, you should get into the bed; you’ll probably sleep more restfully there,” Tatara suggested gently.

“Where will you sleep?”

“There’s enough room for both of us.”

Mikoto raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? We’re both guys here. It’s a big bed, we’re not going to be all squished up or anything. Sofas aren’t good for sleeping on.”

“Alright then…” Mikoto got to his feet, too tired to protest, and Tatara followed him over to the bed.

Mikoto collapsed onto the mattress and was asleep almost instantly, evidently exhausted, but Tatara lay beside him, wide awake, for what felt like hours in the quiet darkness. The sound of Mikoto’s steady breathing and the distant rumbling of passing cars seemed unnaturally loud in the once-again peaceful room. Tatara lay close enough to his King to be able to smell the cigarette smoke scent that clung to his body, and feel the warmth radiating from his bare skin. It made his hair stand on end, as if the air between them was filled with static. He was hyperaware of Mikoto’s every tiny movement, every sound, every time the King sighed in his sleep and the gentle rush of air tickled his skin, raising goosebumps wherever it skimmed across his arms.

Their body heat trapped beneath the blanket was beginning to make Tatara uncomfortably warm, and without thinking, he kicked off the covers and pulled off his shirt, then was all of a sudden hit by a wave of nervousness. The fluttering in his stomach reminded him of being 11, and finding out that his seat in History class was right next to the prettiest girl in his year. He blushed at the thought.

Tatara had never really thought particularly hard about his relationship with Mikoto, though he supposed he’d managed to get closer to their King than anyone else in his clan ever had, even Izumo, who had known him much longer than Tatara had. He supposed that was due to the certain… understanding that they had. Mikoto wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, but he didn’t need to with Tatara, because Tatara almost knew what Mikoto was feeling better than he did himself. And most crucially, because Tatara knew what it was that made him afraid, he could also know how to soothe him in a way that nobody else had ever been able to, so he seemed in better control of himself whenever Tatara was around. Tatara wouldn’t deny that that made him feel a bit special, being the only one who could tame the immense, furious power of the Red King, with nothing more than a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Was that comparable to the way he felt about the pretty girl in elementary school? Not in the slightest. Not that Mikoto was unattractive; he had a certain leonine quality to his appearance that made him seem dangerous in a sort of alluring way, and seeing him shirtless, Tatara hadn’t been able to stop himself noticing the wiry muscle that was pronounced under the tanned skin of his stomach and his arms. But it wasn’t physical attractiveness that was the important factor here, more the almost _gravitational_ attraction that Tatara had felt, drawing him towards Mikoto from the day they met. There was something about him that felt important, something that made Tatara want to stick around to see what would become of him, and before long he found himself in a kind of orbit around his friend.

Though, now that he thought about it, he supposed that “friend” was the wrong word for his relationship with Mikoto. The co-dependence that they had upon each other made the word “friend” seem somewhat insubstantial- Mikoto was the one constant in Tatara’s life; he’d given him purpose, and in return, Tatara understood Mikoto, so he had a unique talent for supporting him that no one else had quite managed to match. The ease with which they understood each other, balanced each other, seemed to transcend friendship.

Tatara shook himself out of the train of thought, even more embarrassed than before.

 _Transcend friendship?_ _That’s so cheesy._

He blamed his saccharine inner monologue on the lateness of the hour; it was easy to let his thoughts get away from him, staring at the ceiling in the hush of that dark room with Mikoto so close beside him. Tatara dismissed it all as sentimental nonsense; he was just tired, and he’d spent too much time thinking on it. He rolled onto his side, his back to Mikoto, and closed his eyes, but sleep still would not come, no matter how many of the early hours the clock ticked away.

Tatara didn’t know how long he lay awake there before a sound startled him; another low growl rumbled in Mikoto’s throat. Tatara looked over his shoulder at him to find that Mikoto was frowning again, and his body was so tense that his muscles trembled with the strain. His breathing had become laboured once more.

Tatara chewed his lip; seeing a person as stoic as him in such a state, he could only imagine how terrible his nightmares were. Instinctively, Tatara shuffled across the mattress to press his back against Mikoto’s chest, lifting his arm to drape it over his own waist. He wasn’t really sure what possessed him to do it, but he reasoned to himself that his touch was calming to Mikoto, but his usual method of tapping his fist against Mikoto’s palm didn’t seem like it would work now that he was asleep. He ignored the way the explanation rang with a sort of falseness inside his head.

The moment their bare skin made contact, Mikoto relaxed instantly. His arm tightened around Tatara, drawing him in closer, and his breathing evened out as the tension in his body eased. The speed at which the contact soothed him astounded Tatara; he’d never seen him calm down this quickly before.

But as much as he was glad Mikoto seemed to be feeling better, there was an element of more selfish enjoyment in it for him too. He had to admit that this was nice; Mikoto’s skin was softer than he expected, and there was something very pleasant about having those strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him in close. The static sensation from earlier had only gotten stronger as they got closer together, and his skin tingled wherever it touched Mikoto’s. The slow, steady rhythm of Mikoto’s breathing was relaxing, and Tatara felt each exhale ruffle his hair in a way that sent a quiet tingling sensation trickling down his spine. Now that the quilt no longer covered them, the warmth of Mikoto’s body heat was comforting rather than stifling.

But at the same time, the butterflies in Tatara’s stomach had only become more erratic, and his throat was dry. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears, far faster than normal, and he felt something constricting his chest, tightening with each heartbeat. The analogy of the pretty girl in his History class came creeping uncomfortably back; this was how he’d felt then too, except the feelings were far stronger this time, almost overwhelming. The only thing he could think about was how close he was to Mikoto; it consumed every aspect of his awareness. This was far more intimacy than Tatara was used to, and as much as his stomach squirmed with nervousness, he savoured every second of it, while trying to ignore the uncomfortable implications of just how much he was enjoying this.

There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him that friends, especially male friends, don’t cuddle like this, and don’t enjoy it this much. He ignored it as best he could, attempting to counter that there was no reason friends shouldn’t be affectionate like this. But as much as he tried to tell himself that, it sounded deceitful, even inside his own head. Yes, he believed platonic affection was important, but at the same time, he was aware that that wasn’t really what this was, at least to him. Perhaps Mikoto would see it differently, but Tatara had to admit that his intentions had stopped being platonic a while ago now. At first, of course, he’d been worried about his friend, but as soon as Mikoto’s nightmares had subsided, Tatara had allowed himself to enjoy this in a very different way to the way he enjoyed giving friendly hugs to people like Izumo and Misaki.

Tatara had known he was bisexual for a few years now; he’d found men attractive for pretty much as long as he could remember, but it had always been more of an aesthetic attraction than a romantic one. He’d always imagined he’d end up with a girl, but he supposed that’s what every boy his age was taught- that there was a perfect girl out there waiting for him, and one day he’d settle down and marry her. Actually dating another guy, beyond a casual fling, was never something that had occurred to him. But before now, he’d never really had a proper crush on another guy.

Well, he’d always known he loved Mikoto, but he’d always thought it was normal, platonic love that everyone had for their best friend. So he hadn’t noticed it gradually creeping up on him, until Mikoto was the person he wanted to spend time with the most, Mikoto was the person who was on his mind the most, Mikoto was the person in his dreams the most, Mikoto was the person he missed the most when he was away at his childhood home a few weeks ago, Mikoto was the person he’d instinctively thrown his arms around the moment he got back to Homra…

And now he was lying in Mikoto’s bed, with Mikoto’s arms around him and his heartbeat fluttering at a thousand miles an hour. And he had to admit to himself that yeah, maybe his feelings for Mikoto did go a little beyond friendship. But even that admission felt dishonest. Now that he’d come clean to himself that maybe he did have romantic feelings for Mikoto, he had to acknowledge that this wasn’t just some puppy crush like the ones he had while he was in middle school; this was something far stronger.

_Infatuation? No, it came on too slowly for that. It’s not that I just want in his pants either. I mean, he’s hot, and I wouldn’t say no, but it’s more than that…_

Cautiously, his train of thought danced around the word _love._ He tried and eliminated every other label he could think of to put words to his feelings, until there was only one left, and it clicked into place perfectly.

_…I think I’m in love with him._

Instead of feeling relieved that he finally understood his own feelings, Tatara found that it was an uncomfortable thing to admit to himself, especially considering the compromising position he found himself in at that moment in time. His friendship with Mikoto was the most important one that he had, and Mikoto relied on him to be his stopper, his tamer. He couldn’t risk sabotaging that bond by trying to force their relationship to become something more than it was supposed to be. It’s not like Mikoto really seemed like the type to be interested in guys, indeed, he didn’t really seem like the type to be interested in _anyone;_ Tatara had never seen him show any kind of romantic or sexual interest whatsoever throughout the entire course of their friendship. But there was a part of him that reasoned that stranger things had happened; there are plenty of gay men that Tatara never would have guessed were gay- it wasn’t completely out of the question that Mikoto could be attracted to guys. But Tatara wasn’t sure how much of that was wishful thinking.

Tatara found himself caught, in that moment. He wanted more of this, this closeness, this intimacy with Mikoto. He loved being the person who knew him the best, and he wanted to continue to get to know him better. He desperately didn’t want this to be the last night he spent lying in Mikoto’s bed beside him. But at the same time, it all seemed so vastly unlikely. Every ounce of evidence that he could come up with that pointed towards Mikoto potentially reciprocating his feelings was so easy to explain away. Mikoto had hugged him back when Tatara had returned from his father’s house, but that could have just been instinctive.

_That’s what you do when someone hugs you, you hug back._

And Mikoto showed more concern for Tatara’s safety than he did for anyone else’s, but Tatara was also the most vulnerable member of Homra; Mikoto had no reason to be worried about the guys who could protect themselves. The closeness of their bond could be explained by Tatara’s unique ability to calm Mikoto down, and just because Mikoto needed him for that, that didn’t necessarily mean he _wanted_ Tatara’s companionship more than he wanted anyone else’s. Even now, this intimacy was just a way of soothing Mikoto’s nightmares.

Still, the one thing Tatara couldn’t explain was how he hadn’t woken Mikoto up when he moved towards him- the lightest of touches had roused him earlier on when he’d been asleep on the sofa, but he hadn’t even stirred as Tatara had cuddled up to him.

Tatara’s heartbeat quickened once more.

_What if he did wake up, and he put his arm around me on purpose? What if he never went back to sleep?_

Tatara felt his throat go dry once more as he tried to suppress the little glimmer of hope that ignited deep in his chest; he didn’t want to set himself up for disappointment, but it was difficult to believe that Mikoto really had slept through Tatara pressing his body against him, when a gentle tap on the shoulder had been enough to startle him awake an hour or so beforehand. He tossed a hundred excuses at that little glimmer, a hundred possible explanations for what could have happened in that moment that didn’t involve Mikoto waking up, but none of them sounded more than vaguely plausible. So eventually, Tatara gave up, and allowed himself to indulge that little glimmer of hope, even if it was just until morning.

It wasn’t long after that when he finally drifted off to sleep, content in the warmth of Mikoto’s arms.

* * *

It took Tatara a moment to realise where he was in the morning, but as he breathed in the familiar, musky scent of his best friend’s skin, the memories of the previous night came surging back to him all at once. If it weren’t for the weight of Mikoto’s arm, still draped over his waist, he would have thought it was all just a dream. His heart skipped a beat the moment the reality hit him- he really was in Mikoto’s bed, and Mikoto really was cuddled up to him. If someone had told him yesterday that this was how he’d wake up, he’d have thought they’d gone round the twist.

His pulse had only just calmed back to a relatively normal rate when Mikoto shifted in his sleep, and the simple movement sent the speed of his heartbeat skyrocketing once more. A low, sleepy grumble rose in Mikoto’s chest, and every muscle in Tatara’s body seized up.

_He’s waking up._

Tatara kept his eyes screwed shut as he felt Mikoto stretch slowly behind him before letting out a long yawn and relaxing once more. To Tatara’s surprise, he didn’t pull away.

“Mornin’,” Mikoto mumbled, his voice thick with drowsiness.

“Morning…” Tatara replied softly, trying to play up the sleepiness in his voice to pretend he’d woken up at the same time as Mikoto. Internally, he was still amazed that Mikoto had made no move to lessen the intimacy; his arm was still draped over Tatara’s waist, and their bodies were still pressed together.

Tatara wasn’t sure whether or not he should say something, apologise, explain how they’d ended up in such a compromising position, or whether it would be better not to acknowledge the elephant in the room at all. But before he had a chance to, Mikoto spoke again.

“Sleep alright?”

“Mm. You?”

“Yeah. The dreams stopped,” Mikoto said nonchalantly, but it was apparent, at least to Tatara, that his words held more meaning than the untrained ear would pick up. By “dreams,” he obviously meant “nightmares,” but there was also a sort of odd tone to his voice that took Tatara a little while to place. It almost sounded like gratitude, as though he wanted to say the nightmares had stopped because of Tatara. Tatara’s breath caught in his throat as nervousness constricted his chest. He was almost convinced now that Mikoto really had woken up when Tatara had cuddled up to him, but had allowed the intimacy anyway.

“Good,” Tatara replied, but internally, he was trying to force his train of thoughts to slow down a little- Mikoto allowing him to get that close didn’t necessarily mean anything. The contact helped Mikoto with his nightmares, and that could be the extent of it. But Tatara wasn’t sure he believed that; he certainly didn’t _want_ to believe that. And it didn’t explain why he was allowing the contact to continue even now; surely he would have put an end to it if he wasn’t enjoying it?

Those tentative thoughts only fed the little glimmer of hope that still lingered somewhere in Tatara’s chest from the night before. And the brighter that hope became, the more of those thoughts forced their way into the forefront of his mind. But even as that cycle continued, Tatara tried his best not to get his hopes up, to try and reason with himself; he didn’t want to set himself up for a disappointment. Even so, he couldn’t help but be acutely aware of every second that ticked by as they lay there together in the lazy warmth of the late morning, with Mikoto’s arm still wound around Tatara’s waist. And with every second that their embrace continued, it became a little bit harder to keep quashing those hopes down. Tatara still wasn’t totally sure that he was even awake, but he decided against pinching himself; he wanted to savour this moment for as long as he could, even if it was just a dream.

It was a good ten minutes after they woke up by the time Mikoto finally drew away, rolling off the bed and rising to his tiptoes to stretch. Tatara couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on Mikoto, observing the way the muscles in his back flexed beneath his tanned skin as his arms extended lazily above his head. A faint blush dusted Tatara’s cheeks as he watched.

Mikoto let out another long, almost cat-like yawn, then padded towards the bathroom, his feet dragging on the carpet. As he got to the doorway, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder, then said casually:

“You can stay over here again, if you want.”

“S-sure,” Tatara replied, unable to stop a small, shy grin from spreading across his face. He felt his heartbeat stutter as he thought he glimpsed the ghost of a smile on Mikoto’s lips before he disappeared through the doorway. And suddenly he couldn’t suppress that hope any more. After all, Mikoto hadn’t pushed him away when Tatara pressed their bodies together, Mikoto had held him while they slept, Mikoto had let Tatara lay in his arms when they woke up, and Mikoto had smiled when Tatara accepted his offer to do this all again… Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to believe that he might have a chance with him after all.


End file.
